Chapter XII: Of the Strangeness
--
"Do you like me, Harry?"
Harry's head snapped up and he sent Andersen a look of utter befuddlement. "What?"
"Do you like me?" he repeated.
"No… not particularly, why?" Harry asked, the last word taking on a definite undertone of suspicion.
Andersen shrugged. "I just can't quite comprehend why you've been coming back here for a year now if you don't even like me."
"It's not that big of a deal," Harry muttered defensively, laying back down on the couch and crossing his arms over his chest.
"A bit nonsensical though, no?"
Harry shrugged, frowning. "I don't know," he retorted and Andersen couldn't quite stoop himself from smirking at the petulant image.
"All I'm saying is that if you'd like to end these appointments it's be okay… you have recovered from your drinking problems quite fantastically actually so there's really nothing for me to do-"
"No," Harry abruptly stopped him. "No, it'd be okay if I continued to come here."
Andersen smiled. "Okay… that's good too, I suppose."
--
"Thank you, Harry," Buckley muttered as the two exited the city hall together following the press conference.
Harry nodded sharply. "It's no problem, mate."
"No... It is, and I'm sorry I had to drag you into this... I just-" he cut off with a deep sigh, raising a hand and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I just don't know what to do... I'm tired of it all, Harry."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Come on, you know me, we've been working together for years now, you know I was never one for positions like this. I like to organize ops, yeah, but I also like to participate, not sit at the sidelines, delegating and dealing with petty nuisances..."
"Then why'd you ever take this job?"
He shrugged. "I don't know... seemed like the right thing to do... my country needed me, it was an honor, you know?"
He let out a small laugh. "Yeah... yeah, I do."
"Right," Buckley winced. "Of course you do."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean it that way, Buckster," he drew out the nickname just for the satisfaction of seeing the scowl that quickly overtook, marring, his superior's face every time it was mentioned.
"Don't be an arse," he muttered bitterly. "And I know you didn't mean it in a self-deprecating way, but that doesn't change the facts… or history."
"We have to get over it at some point, though, don't we?"
"Another lesson from that mentor for the loony?"
Harry chucked. "Yeah."
Buckley nodded with a small smile. "He was good for you."
"Yeah… he really was."
"Do you still see him?"
"No, but every once in a while I get an invite from him for dinners or parties his wife throws."
Buckley nodded again. "That reminds me; we got back some results from Granger."
"How was that at all related?" Harry asked, eyebrows draw together in confusion.
"They're both your mates. Anyway, she's managed to derive at all of the curses used for the murders," he informed Harry, passing a copy of the file to him. "According to her they're rather simple, just like the previous ones found, same formula and all that shit. I also had another profiler have a gander at the spells used, just for a second opinion-broaden our options-and he thinks that this is probably a reader, someone with a lot of time on their hands… very frustrated, definitely mentally unstable."
"As if that wasn't obvious," Harry roiled his eyes.
"No, not like that," Buckley shook his head roughly. "He means that, regardless of this, this woman, whoever she is, is mentally troubled… he thinks it's rape."
"But that's the absolute opposite of what S�skin said…"
Buckley sucked on his teeth, letting out a frustrated sound as he nodded. "Yeah."
"So what the hell do you expect me to do now?"
"Dig… these blokes have deep pockets, Harry, there's got to be something they're hiding and I can promise you that you won't be able to find it with a simple Wiz-Internet search."
"You really think it goes that deep? If these aren't random cases, then yes, I do…"
"If… if this is true, if they are hiding something, then it either traces back to the Minister of Magic or the Wizengamot, are you ready for that?-The backlash?"
Buckley shrugged, letting out a tired sigh as he moved his hands to rub his temples. "It's politics, it's corrupt… hell, half this office is corrupt," he admitted.
Harry raised his eyebrows in response to that, never having suspected that caliber of bluntness even if they were mates-he was still the Head of the blasted department, after all.
Buckley shrugged, again, in response. "you can't lose perspective of things like that… you lie to yourself, blind yourself to it, then you'll just lose everything once you realize how false your reality is… you told me that once."
"I was talking about hero worship."
"Well it's just as how people blindly loved you only to have that destroyed after your breakdown," he said so candidly that Harry actually even winced at the harsh, albeit true, choice of words. "if you always assume the best when you're working in something related to politics of all things, you'll just… hell, I don't even want to think of how an idealist would respond to realizing the dirtiness of it."
Harry nodded. "Okay, if you're sure, then I'll do it… but I'll need to bring in others because if you want to search the ministry-"
"I trust you, do what you want, but you better be able to come up with some fucking fantastic alibis for those reports… and be careful with that girl of yours, she's a stickler for the rules."
"No, she's not," Harry shook his head adamantly. "her sense of justice overrides that any day, you should have seen what she did back when we were in school… she was the worst of the lot, she planned all of our escapades, it's why we were so successful," he divulged with a small smile.
"If you're sure then go for it, but… just keep it quiet, Harry, I don't want the press in on this, we already have enough to deal with, let's keep the high from your PR stunt going."
"Okay."
--
"Do you love her?" Andersen finally asked that question that had been a thorn in his side for over a year, since he'd started seeing the prat who, seemingly, enjoyed the prospect of crying himself a blasted river.
His head snapped up in alert. "Who?"
"Hermione Granger is her name, I believe."
"Of course I do," Harry responded tightly, his muscles bunching at the mention of her, just as they always did. "She's my best mate, after all, why wouldn't I love her?" he asked, scoffing at the preposterousness of the question.
"I don't mean in that respect."
"Then in which do you?" Harry asked, purposefully playing stupid, and they both knew it.
"you know, so I won't bother insulting what little intelligence you may have by drawing it out for you," Andersen bluntly told him, having gotten very used to their dynamic over time.
"Maybe I don't," Harry grumbled petulantly.
Andersen shook his head tiredly. "You've been avoiding this for so long and, I guess, what intrigues me more than when you're going to admit to it is why you won't…" he admitted.
"There's nothing to admit."
"Of course not," he sarcastically quipped.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You very well know what it means so stop asking pointless questions. All I'm going to say to you, Harry, is this: if you want to change the path you're going on then you're going to have to do it. No one can do it all for you, you have to take the steps to reach that goal and-and if you do so too late, you just might lose it all. Time's up, go."
"I-"
"Just go, Harry… think about it on your own a bit."
At the end of the meeting the only thing written on Andersen's pad was five words: "pathetic-love struck and pathetic."
--
"I want to go," Hermione announced.
"No, you don't," he informed her, despite being well aware that she may very well hex his bullocks for that proclamation.
Instead, though, he got off rather lucky as she only sent him a glare that sent shivers running down his spine. Very luck, indeed.
"Yes. I. Do," she told him through gritted teeth.
"Don't be so demanding, Hermione, not attractive at all."
"I'll show you unattractive," she murmured. "Harry, you said I could be a part of it all, and I want to go!"
"No, simple as that. Listen, I don't want you to go so just, please, do me a favor and let it go. It's already four anyway and you have to get ready for our dinner, I shouldn't be too long so I'll meet you at the restaurant at eight, like we agreed."
"It's not fair, I hope you realize that," she bitterly informed him, arms crossed huffily and a small pout on her face.
He smiled. "I know, and I'm sorry, but I just can't have anyone else involved… you're already the only one I've told about what we're doing, I just can't have you further involved… trust me on this, Hermione."
"Okay," she begrudgingly said. "But I don't like it… I hate not being a part of it."
He grinned, pulling her into his arms for a tight embrace. "I know, and I am sorry."
"It's okay," she spoke softly, into his chest. "Just… just don't get hurt, okay?"
"I won't, I promise."
--
"Do you ever ask yourself if you made a mistake?... if-if every decision you've ever made in your life was just this terrible error in judgment that you can't take back anymore?" she asked him, staring out the massive windows of his library.
"Of course, I'm a fucking recovering alcoholic," he gruffly told her.
She slapped his leg lightly. "Don't speak like that when you don't need to," she chastised him. "And… and I don't mean like that. I-I mean romantically."
"This about Ron?"
"No… yes… maybe?-I don't even know anymore, honestly. I feel so confused. We work, we really do, and to a certain extent we even make sense… but I just can't help wondering if… well is this really it? Is this all?" she admitted with an embarrassed look on her face.
"What brought on this sudden epiphany?"
She paused for a second before slowly responding: "it's not all that sudden, really… not at all sudden, actually… rather old, in fact."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"But you're still with him?"
She took a noticeable gulp. "I-I think we both can't let go even though we both know we should, how pathetic is that? Regardless of anything that happens we just can't seem to let go and, for the life of me, I can't comprehend why that is, but, still, here we are. Together."
"If you really wanted things to change, though, you'd finally let go, wouldn't you?" he asked her, rather sagely. So much so that it left her in a catatonic state of shock for a moment-jaw dropped and all.
"Yeah… I guess you're right," she finally mumbled, nodding her head slowly and continuously-why, she wasn't quite sure.
--
"I need a favor," he finally tells him silently after sitting across from him at a booth in the back of the bar for the past fifteen or so minutes.
"I figured as much," Herrick sighed. "But I hope you realize how terrible it is that the first time we've talked in a year is over a favor you need."
He smiled weakly. "I'm sorry… really, though, I do feel terrible about it."
Herrick just nodded understandingly. "I get it, life gets in the way. About this business though, how sensitive is it?"
"Do you have somewhere private we can go sensitive."
"Follow me," he ordered, leading him to the back of the bar and up a staircase to one of the apartments above the establishment. "This one's currently not being rented out to anyone so I sometimes use it as a second office, for now," he explained as he took out a key and unlocked it, leading Harry in. "Take a seat," he told him, motioning to the chesterfield in the sitting room.
"Thanks," Harry said, seating himself as Callum did the same, placing himself across from him on a chair.
"So what's this about?"
"I… I need your help, mate."
"Figured as much. Does this have anything to do with that glitzy murder case of yours?"
"Yeah."
He nodded. "I think we may need a drink for this then, you still drink non-alcoholic beer?" he asked.
Harry smiled slowly. "Yeah, thanks."
"No problem, it's utter shit, but it gets me through, glad to have a buddy who's on the same boat there," he spoke as he left Harry to go to the kitchen. "Here you go," he handed him an opened beer when he returned. "Now speak."
"Buckley, the chief, he thinks that it may have something to do with deep pockets, that the families are hiding something so he wants me to investigate, double check all of the facts."
Callum whistled. "Rather ballsy move there."
"He doesn't want anyone to know, and… and you're the only other person I trust who I know also has the connections to do this. Any chance you'd be willing?"
"For you, Harry, anything, but I don't know how long it'll take-big fish and all that crap," he explained, waving his hand carelessly.
"I know, I don't expect a miracle overnight, but I just-I didn't know who else to go to."
"I'm glad you came to me, only wish that we were seeing each other again under better circumstances," he assured Harry with a small smile. "Now, tell me, who's the bird I saw you with when watching the press conference? Is it the Hermione Granger that I think it is?"
"You know who she is, don't play coy."
Callum rolled his eyes playfully. "Just tell me a bit about her already, I'm curious as to what's changed!"
--
"What scares you, Harry?" Andersen asked him.
Harry paused, clearly struggling with whether or not to answer the question. The answer was there, on the tip of his tongue, that much was obvious; the only question left was whether or not he wanted to say it out loud. After a good five minutes, though, he finally uttered the word: "disappointment."
"I take it you've been disappointed a lot in the past,-"
"No," Harry said, voice raspy. "No," he repeated, that time for firmly. "It's not that, that I'm afraid of, but the idea of disappointing Ron and Hermione."
"But especially Hermione, right?"
Harry winced. "She… she's not perfect, I know that, but… but at the same time she is… she's so good and, in so many ways, innocent. I'm afraid of fucking it all up and that she might finally realize how much better she'd be without me," Harry finally admitted.
And, after two and a half years, Andersen finally got a truly honest answer out of his patient.
--
"I still just can't believe that you two actually broke up," he walked in to hear Christina cry.
"We just felt it was time," Ron stiffly told her, clearly uncomfortable with the subject manner, his arm draped across Hermione's chair out of habit, squeezing her arm lightly to comfort her.
"It's not that big of a deal, really," Hermione said as they still hadn't noticed Harry's appearance.
"I know, it's really just such a shame, though, you were such a super couple, really… the sort that makes a person believe in love, romance, and all that jazz," Christina admitted with a small sigh.
"No reason to cry over the past, Christina," Harry said with a smile as he took a seat in the empty chair next to her.
"Hey, mate, how are you?" Ron warmly greeted him with a grin.
"Alive and shakin', is the quote, I believe."
Hermione snorted lightly.
"Very feminine there, love," Harry quipped.
Hermione batted her eyelashes playfully. "Why thank you, I do try!"
"You three are really just so cute, it's a wonder how people can be so close," Christina commented, watching them with rapt interest.
"Comes from slapping these two around so much during our formative years, they're perfectly trained now, thanks to me," Hermione winked with a saucy little smile, the sort that women send to one another when they're in on a secret that they believe could not possibly deciphered by men.
And Christina tittered right on queue.
"I think I speak for both of us when I say we resent that," Harry announced.
"And I think I speak for all women when I say who cares?" Hermione immediately retorted with a sly smile.
--
author's note: so there was supposed to be two more scenes to this, but it didn't work when I tried to add it in so rather than the cliff hanger that was going to be here it'll start off the next chapter.
Also, though, I am so sorry for the long wait for this, I don't know why, but I've been having the most terrible time trying to write this chapter. Quite pathetic, really.
PLEASE REVIEW!
HAPPY NEW YEAR and, once again, thank you to my amazing beta Searcy!
p.s. for updates on when I'll be posting and etc. go to my homepage
p.p.s. author's name used: Herrick
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